


hello from the other side;

by thatbluebox



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, ft. the henchdogs aka grant ward's most trusted henchmen, henchdog au, the season 3 we deserve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-27 22:11:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5066314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatbluebox/pseuds/thatbluebox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a lasting second of heavy silence before they begin to talk strategy and disarming SHIELD, its key players, and weaponry. But it must all be in their heads, the team decides, because their leader is thorough. His face slips into a cool mask of sparking fury, which transforms the indifference of his tone. SHIELD's reckoning has come once again and they will be at the forefront, he promises. <i>But then his fingers linger on the photo of a brunette agent for a moment too long, and, for a moment, they're not so sure.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	hello from the other side;

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catteo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catteo/gifts), [serenitysea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenitysea/gifts), [twitter peeps](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=twitter+peeps).



>    
> after months of waiting, here it is, henchdog au! for those of you who don't know, henchdog au was birthed on twitter after the events of the s2 finale, and an entire au-verse was created based on the shenanigans of grant ward's henchmen - aka the henchdogs - larry, bob and trevor. alternatively, the three left standing at the end of the finale. 
> 
> **please note** : this fic was originally started back in may, and therefore diverges heavily from canon learned from the hiatus and season 3 canon. thus, ward's hydra is vaguely defined and skye is not going by daisy johnson. 
> 
> **big thanks** to ali and cat for their continuous support with this project, especially cat, who put in many hours of betaing. this never would have finished without you two. _additionally,_ this is all for my twitter peeps who have taken bob, larry and trevor into their hearts and just ran wild with this au. i hope new readers will appreciate these guys as much as i do. this is also to my fellow shippers; we’re all in this draught and mess of canon.

 

 

*

 

revenge. it's an end, not a beginning.

Their boss is different.

He doesn't want chaos, he wants retribution.

Which is fine, the trio laments. They've worked for an assortment of highly-strung and cracked bosses; some with high temperaments and others with bizarre habits. Hell, the last guy was obsessed with powered people. As long as they get something out of it, their boss can be as aloof and mysterious as he likes.

But he's still _off._

Although they are - were - loyal to Hydra, it seems that Grant Ward doesn’t care for either its original or modern purpose. The organization settles and shifts, but he ignores the new players that emerge. Allows for the power dynamics to resurface and rekindle, while he strategizes and uses his new resources. Gone are the “Hail Hydra!” and talk of world domination. Instead, their leader scoffs at all attempts to discuss the old days, and redirects their efforts elsewhere. They don't know whether its refreshing or disconcerting. However, none of the three dare to think of it as weakness, not after what they've seen.

There's a picture on his desk, the one they first saw surrounded by shattered glass on the day they met their boss. She sits in a gilded frame surrounded by papers and schematics, maps and plans.

“It's always about a woman,” Larry whispers to Bob afterwards, “I'm telling you.”

And yet, when the pictures of their enemies are hung and taped to the board, Trevor catches the way their leader's eyes carry over each face. The tick in his jaw as Leopold Fitz is mentioned during a briefing. The way his hands hesitate when Bob mentions they should bring on board a qualified hacker. His affirmation that they will not be using splinter bombs in any of their missions. The lasting second of heavy silence before they begin to talk strategy and disarming SHIELD, its key players, and weaponry. But it must all be in their heads, the team decides, because their leader is thorough. His face slips into a cool mask of sparking fury, which transforms the indifference of his tone. SHIELD's reckoning has come once again and they will be at the forefront, he promises.

But then his fingers linger on the photo of a brunette agent for a moment too long, and, for a moment, they're not so sure.

*

They brace themselves against the brick wall as SHIELD agents hurry down the adjacent corridor. The warehouse is now brimming with the enemy, and their strategy of an undetected infiltration with a swift exit is already a distant memory. Now that the distraction has commenced, they can get Ward and extract as planned via their own quinjet, camouflaged at the other end of the site.

The duo follow the sound of raised voices until they’re looking out over the two story balcony, onto the factory floor below.

“So who you working for now? Darth Vader? Voldemort? The Wicked Witch of the West?"

"Myself."

Bob and Larry hastily drop back into the shadows, guns half out of their holsters, watching as their boss takes on -- wait.

Larry aggressively points and mouths something to Bob. It takes Bob a second to work out that he’s saying, “It's her.” Bob risks a look over the railing.

 

It isn't hard to remember the photograph of the brunette; she had been circled in red as SHIELD's most dangerous threat. Larry's right, and Bob recognizes her instantly.  Gifted. The specifics were hazy at best, and their boss seemed surprisingly reluctant to offer more than what he was telling. But it’s her, that’s for sure. Agent Skye. The name that carries the most weight in their boss' mouth whenever he says it.

He always makes a point of stressing how lethal she is, so why is Grant Ward taking her on?

"So, you're the next big bad, huh?" Skye's fists are balled at her sides, while Ward’s gun is lazily aimed at her chest. Despite the obvious tension between them, neither seem willing to break into a fighting stance just yet, as if waiting for the other to do so first. 

He shrugs. "I thought you'd be happy - now I've become the man so many people believed I was." Ward cocks his head to the side. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you a superhero now? Only fair I become the villain." His voice drips with false sincerity as they take a step closer to one another. 

 

The young woman chokes on a laugh.  "That's all you have to say? Really?"

The building around them starts to rumble ominously, Bob and Larry’s attention is abruptly pulled away from their boss' conversation by the appearance of two SHIELD agents charging at them. Trevor's voice comes through the coms, and the quinjet's engine roars to life in the background as both Larry and Bob escape into the closest hallway. They finally lose the SHIELD agents after an exchange of gunfire and risky game of cat-and-mouse through a twisting corridor. By the time they've doubled back, shouting has filled the carnivorous space below. Rumbling turns to full out shaking, and dust sifts down from above. They run.

Seconds later Ward appears beside them, his lip bleeding. 

They reach the quinjet in minutes, deadly and efficient as their leader takes out any enemy threats with the precision of a skilled marksman. Behind them the foundation continues to shake and a cloud of dust settles over the lot.

 *

They're at a satellite SHIELD base outside of Toronto.

There's a cold wind whistling through the corridor as they step inside, explosives unhinging the bolted door. Almost immediately a wailing sound fills the hallway, and the team of four maneuver their way through. In seconds they reach the end of the corridor, their hired hacker - Hardison - already plugging his gear into the keypad at the door. Bob, Trevor and Larry take point as sentries.

Hardison is on the fourth round of codes at the keypad when he makes his first sound of agitation. They're getting behind on schedule.

"What is it?" Ward asks, as his eyes catch sight of an unmarked camera positioned above. 

"It keeps rewriting itself," Hardison says, making a face. "Barely, too. Someone’s running a hack on the SHIELD mainframe and trying to counter my moves. Probably on a mobile device. It's sloppy."

A second later the red emergency telephone on the wall to their left rings, suddenly audible as the blaring alarm goes silent.

After three beats, Ward glances back up at the camera before he reaches over and turns on the speaker. 

A female voice, "Hail Hydra."

"Hey, Skye." For a moment he almost looks like he’s smirking. Larry, Trevor, and Bob all share a look.

"You can tell your amateur hacker that he's the sloppy one."

"Is that French I hear in the background?" Ward drawls, his eyes moving back to the camera angled above them. He slouches against the wall. "In Paris during a time such as this?" He makes a tsking noise, "Bad call, I think.” This time he actually grins. “You can tell Coulson I said that."

"You tricked us."

Hardison gives a satisfying grunt of approval as he breaks through another round of her security code. A male voice screams aggressively in French over the speakerphone, followed by loud honking. 

"Are you hacking us on your cell phone?" Ward inquires.

"I could hack you from less."

Ward shifts, leisurely regarding the camera. “You don’t think you’ve gotten rusty?"

They hear her make a muffled noise of agitation before her voice comes across the line, “As if."

"Then why do you sound so nervous?"

There's a moment of concentrated silence as Hardison breaks through another code, wearing a look of victory. This time Skye actually swears.

The door opens with a hiss, and Larry is the first through the door.

"I swear to god, Ward don't - if you do this -"

Ward laughs, hangs up, and shoots out the camera.  

 

*

"Coulson's not stupid,” Ward explains over a sketch of the Playground, the details sketched out from memory. "He has to suspect I know where it is."

The low light casts shadows upon Bob's face, twisting his frown. "Shouldn't we be telling the rest of HYDRA about the base? The building is still a SHIELD strong hold." Beside him Ward shakes his head, polishing off his drink. He places it at the corner of the map, leaving a wet circular imprint.

"No, they're not involved. They won't ever be involved." His finality of his tone drives home the point: We are not their Hydra.

"Plus," Ward glances up, his smile dangerous, "It's just a friendly house call."

The base is a ghost town.

Coulson obviously cleared the base out in a hurry, soon after Ward’s team took possession of his intel, and the team is delighted with the abandoned goods. Apparently SHEILD’s best hacker wasn't on site to create the needed security measures, and no hidden surprises catch them off guard. After disarming the alarm system and two sentries, the team steps onto the base, resembling little more than grave diggers. Tech, weapons, and a case of beer are all left behind, and they jostle each other in their rush to take their pick of these stolen gems. It's only when the security alarms start to ring - fire - that Larry finds Ward standing outside of Vault D.

The vault is the first area to be engulfed in flames, and the base soon lies in shambles.

*

 

As it happens, SHIELD and Ward's team aren't the only players emerging from the new world order.

Sometimes the three of them meet in a violent power grab. 

Bob sees her coming before anyone else. The fire behind her creates a red glow around her silhouette, her hair blown out from the heat.  She's mesmerizing and terrifying, and Bob would gladly stick two bullets in her now before she causes a swallowing crater in front of them, despite his boss' clear opposition against such an action. He believes it all now - that these beings are weapons - destruction calling to them in their blood. Part of him wonders why, as such a destructive force of nature, she never considered the chaotic satisfaction of his previous employer.

"Your ten o'clock -" Bob chokes out before he slams into the collapsed remnants of a building, the force of her power knocking the breath out of his lungs. She ignores the rest of their team and the uninvited third party, using pulses of energy to knock down anyone who comes close. Skye keeps her eyes on Ward, and when he finally spins to face her amongst the chaos, she's mere feet from him.

Skye throws out a hand.

Ward aims his gun.

She doesn't hesitate. 

 

*

Ward rolls to his feet before she lands a second blow, and fires. He sees the flash of surprise on her features, the incredulity as the bullets from his gun move towards her. He sees the moment where the thought hits her - why shouldn't he hesitate? - and she falters a second too long to clearly deflect the shot. 

_ You didn't hesitate. _

A single bullet grazes her shoulder but the others hit their target, Ward’s aim true as ever.

The man behind Skye drops, gleaming knife falling onto the dirt.

"Never turn your back on the enemy," Ward raises an eyebrow, face bruised and bloody. 

He never turns his back on her.

Not once.

 

*

 

A new threat emerges, distracting SHEILD, and taking the heat off of Ward and his team as they begin to grow in numbers. An international pandemic sweeps the globe, and reports of people with powers start to emerge at a rate far quicker than SHIELD can cover up. Ward's team follows it closely for various reasons: recruitment purposes, threat assessment, and intel on SHIELD’s new approach to powered people which seems to be led by a specific agent.

The death toll is staggering.

 

Opportunity strikes during the widespread panic as intel becomes a precious commodity. It isn’t long before their boss is putting together a team to investigate a lead on the coast of New Zealand, at a lab forty minutes north of Wellington. The trio is tight lipped as their boss preps the team with the schematics, briefly stating the threat of a SHIELD task force in the area. They don’t like it, but it’s clear that Ward is determined either way. 

 

Seven hours later, Ward slips away during the op with direct orders to continue with the mission at hand. When the evac team stumbles upon the security monitors, they are surprised to find the grainy images of two individuals projected from the main console room. They catch the tail end of the argument, watching as their leader faces off with the enemy once again.

 

 “You lie, you deceive, you use people,” Skye whirls on him, “You are every bit the monster people say you are.”

 

Ward takes an aggressive step forward, matching her. “And what about you? What about all those people who pass up your offer to join SHIELD? Hm?” He tilts his head, “How many lies have you told, to keep them quiet. How many deceits have you performed to gain their trust.” He takes another step closer. “How many have you used for the ‘greater good’ and how many have you lost.” 

 

The room shakes with growing force.

 

“I know what I am,” Ward continues mercilessly, “But do you?”

 

“My powers—” 

 

He barks out a laugh, “I’m not talking about that. You of all people should know it’s what’s within us that makes us who we are.” 

 

Skye freezes before she moves out of view, a resounding crash echoing through the feed. The camera trembles and goes black, not before the team see Ward start forward. 

 

They never find out how he made out.

 

*

 

It's a clean shot straight to the head.

Ward looks down at the body – a man the Argentines had called The Butcher - and makes a face of disgust. The motel room where they had lured him to do 'business' is now stained with red, and Ward signals with a circling finger for them to pack up. They've completed their job: effectively remove said man from power and take the tech he had been pawning off. Like many of their recent missions, Ward's directives have eased the focus off of SHIELD and towards a whole new body of players. If they didn't know better - and they're not too sure they do - the team might think it was some sort of atonement. 

 

*

 

SHIELD arrives hours later, finding absolutely nothing of use: only a crime scene, a dead body, and the need to come up with yet another false explanation to account for the damage done. Nothing less than they've been doing for months now.

A week later a call comes in to Coulson, confirming that the body found matches with that of a profile submitted by the secret task force run by Agent Skye. Michele Andromodas: known for countless murders and local terrorism.

But also for trafficking Inhumans. 

*

 

It's the team's favourite bar.

Every Tuesday night the three main henchmen - Larry, Bob and Trevor - visit to get a good drink, a good view of their favourite waitress, and take their chances at the pool table. It's little more than a hole in the wall, tucked between two alleys in the worst part of the city, but it serves the best beer on the East Coast. 

It's also ridiculously famous within a community of seedy and despicable people, so they're not expecting to run into a SHIELD agent.

Let alone her.

"Hey boys."

Larry chokes on his pint when he hears her voice. The familiar figure leans over the counter, acknowledging the working group of bartenders – and, thankfully, not the team. The SHIELD insignia gleams like a beacon under the low lighting, the silver sparking off the shoulder of her leather jacket. Half the room watches her, and it's only now that the trio realizes that the bar seems quieter than usual.

She's clearly drunk.

"How about another?" Skye says, with a lilt to her voice. Her cheeks are flushed pink, hair messily sprung from a ponytail, and below her palms, the bar quivers. She stumbles slightly as she makes a grab for the filled glass, and Larry catches a glimpse of the bruises along her fingers. There’s a cut above her cheekbone, and there are dark circles under her eyes. 

All three stare and Bob’s jaw slowly drops.

"Is that -" Bob starts.

"Yeah." Larry finishes.

Trevor says nothing, just skulls the remainder of his drink and gestures for another round. All three watch in unison as the agent pushes herself from the bar, throwing back her shot as the bartender eyes her warily. She grimaces, slamming the glass down with a resounding thud that echoes in the unnaturally quiet room. She sucks on her lip, shaking her head as if to clear it.

A man, himself the worse for wear, chooses that moment to edge around her, hooking a foot around a nearby bar stool before cozying up to her. The blond - a regular - whispers something in her ear, and she frowns. Skye barely turns her head, and while the trio can't glimpse the words she says, they catch the man's reaction. His smirk freezes on his face, and Skye turns away from him with a smug smile, already pulling the next full shot glass towards her. Bob doesn’t quite manage to stifle a laugh.

That’s when she notices the three of them.

"Do I know you?" 

Larry swallows thickly, and her eyes narrow at their collective silence. "Yes, yes I do. You work for him." She seems suddenly more coherent.

Ripples skate across the surface of Bob’s drink.

Trevor stands, his face impassive, but it's clear it’s far from his best move. Her face lights up dangerously, something sharp-edged in the way she looks at them.  

"So you boys want to fight? Am I not welcome here or something?"  In that moment she seems explosive, strikingly like –

"SHIELD agents are never welcome here, cupcake." The blond interjects from behind, his expression sour from his hurt pride. Skye stills, resembling nothing less than a predator from her position perched on the stool, and her forced smile drops. She twists up to look over her shoulder, addressing the blonde and his friends.

"What did you say?"

"I said," He repeats again, slowly, condescendingly, "SHIELD agents aren't welcome. Cupcake."

That’s when she punches him straight in the jaw.

The action pushes her off balance and she nearly stumbles back with him, grabbing hold of the stool to catch herself. In seconds the entire bar is up on their feet, as if they can smell blood in the air. Immediately Skye jumps off her stool - tipsy and with little grace - facing the crowd. The SHIELD insignia glints in the light as figures begin to circle her.

“Aw, what’s this? Did I miss the ‘No SHIELD Agents Allowed’ sign on the treehouse?" There is a slight slur to her words as she pouts. She seems far from intimidating, but the trio knows better. And it seems they aren't the only ones: no one steps forward. Skye's eyes skip over the crowd, her eyes narrowing at the cold reception. Her fist ball at her sides, and it's clear she isn't leaving without a fight. “Nothing? Really?” 

The next word she says is enough to land the first blow.

“Call him," Trevor says, just before all hell breaks lose.

A drunken, out-for-blood Skye is not what they were expecting and this is far from their definition of a good time out. 

In this state, Skye can't seem to concentrate her powers enough to keep her opponents down for long, and they're just getting angrier. They’ve seen her abilities level a building, but now her aim is off, and she's creating more sinkholes than actual blows. At one point she takes on a larger opponent, jumping onto the bar to deliver a swift kick to his head. The next moment she's roughly knocked down, shattering glasses and spilling amber liquid in her trail. But she's laughing, her split lip twisting in a smirk as she appraises the burly man glaring down at her.

"Psych." 

The next moment she's delivering a swift kick to his stomach before sending a blast his way. It's becoming clear that using her powers, especially in her state, is taking a toll on her. Larry sees the way her hands shake as she delivers another blow. 

She somehow ends up getting into a fistfight with three men and, despite her commendable agility and training, she quickly becomes overwhelmed when three more join in. The next second she's swinging her hands out and the building shakes as a massive chasm rips apart the floorboards. Bodies go down and she pinwheels backwards, blood smearing down the left side of her face from a nasty cut. She takes a steadying step forward, opening her mouth, but the words seem to die on her lips as a shadow darkens the doorway.

There’s a brief silence as the room watches on, a sudden charge filling in the space between her and where he stands at the door. It takes Larry a moment to realize why the sudden stillness is jarring; the rumbling from her powers has stopped. 

"Look who’s finally showed up," Instead of sounding venomous, her voice breaks.

“Didn't know I was invited.” Ward’s tone is flat, and Skye straightens at his next words. “What are you doing here?"

"Getting a drink." She sticks out her chin, as if daring him to see some sort double meaning in her words. His face remains unreadable, but his eyes linger on her footing.  

“Still reckless, I see."

There is something so broken about her wolfish grin that it makes Larry's gut twist. “Still an ass, I see."

Ward says nothing, and Skye seems to take this as permission to continue. Still unsteady on her feet, she starts forward, intent unclear. But before she can take two steps, her foot lands on a piece of broken glass from the bar. The silence in the room is absolute, time seeming to slow as Skye finally loses her footing.

She falls backwards, towards the gaping blackness, hungrily waiting at the center of the floor.

"Skye!”

They’ve never seen Ward move so fast, and he catches her shoulder as her right foot hovers over empty space, her eyes finally registering an emotion that Larry was beginning to think wasn’t in Skye’s repertoire – fear. The team watches wide eyed as Skye is pulled to safety and swept securely into Ward's arms. A rumbling fills the bar as Skye attempts to catch her breath, her eyes wide as her hands fist into his jacket. Ward looks up at the crowd, bodies backing away from the intensity of his expression. No one touches them as Ward carries her outside, her shoulders shaking as she finally slumps against him. 

Larry is the first to follow, pausing in the doorway as her voice echoes off the brick wall of the alley.

"It's all my f-fault," Skye's voice is rough, and Ward pauses mid-step. Her cheeks are wet under the street lights, the yellow glow throwing her face in shadow. "If I hadn't - if I ha-hadn't pushed the crystals - they w-wouldn't be de-dead - oh god, oh god they're all dead - " Her words seem to catch in her throat.

Ward looks up at his team, his face unreadable in the dim moonlight. They silently back away, giving Skye and Ward space.

They never hear his reply.

*

He’s reaching for her. It’s a scene pulled from the dreams she pretends she no longer has. But Ward’s doing nothing more than reaching into her pocket, pulling out her phone. Soon they hear a soft ringing from the other end. 

"Why is it always my fault?" Skye's voice is small and she feels Ward looking down at her. She stares hard at the zipper of his jacket. "Everywhere she goes, death follows." She imitates the words she’s heard too many times with a shrill laugh, the latter part obscured by a string of hiccups. Her expression darkens as she tips her head back. "What if I can't save them? What if I-I'll never be enough - " Her eyes flick towards Ward's face, his body still beneath her hands. “I wasn't enough for you - you loved me and I still wasn't enough."

Ward's next breath rattles in his chest as Skye turns her head into his shoulder, too drunk and exhausted to care what he thinks.

 She misses the expression on his face. 

"You know, I never wanted this." It's a muffled confession, breathed against the leather of his jacket.

Quietly, almost too low to hear, "Me either." 

Coulson's voice crackles across the line as Ward untangles himself from her and joins the three shadows waiting at the mouth of the alley. She doesn’t watch as they vanish into the dark. 

 

*

 

Skye breaks into their base.

Not just their safe house, but their super secret, not-on-the-map, base.

By the time the trio has scrambled towards the breach, back up on their heels, her voice is rising above the consistent wailing of the security alarm. She's downright yelling from her position off the main central foyer, her long  _hellooooo_  echoing up the corridors into the briefing and common rooms. 

"Finally," Skye announces as they emerge into the open space, “I'm pretty sure if I timed how long it took you to get here, you'd be just shy of a pizza delivery." She's standing in the middle of the room, a line of bright crimson creeping along the floor at her feet. She's got a sizeable cut running up her right arm, but otherwise she looks as if she could storm a building in her leather gear. Which is precisely what she's done. 

Skye takes the next few moments to observe her surroundings. "So this is the infamous base, huh? I thought it'd be," She pauses. Grins. "More black. What's Ward always going on about - streamlined?  The new streamlined, super duper serious, Hydra? Well I guess that explains the minimalist furniture." She sniffs. 

Larry quickly levels his gun at her chest, and Skye throws out her left hand. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, bud."  She lifts a challenging brow, and Larry answers with a scowl as he slowly lowers his weapon. Skye allows her triumphant smile to broaden at his deepening frown. 

The noise of guns being cocked into place is clearly welcomed by the trio, their own features taking on more than a hint of bravado as recruits and agents alike flood the entryway within seconds. Skye keeps her hand leveled at Bob, Trevor and Larry, but she eyes the rapidly increasing numbers with a trepidation she hopes doesn’t show on her face. Her eyes flicker over each new arrival, but she's not seeing the one person she's come here for. She frowns, twisting her head back to Larry with an accusatory look.

"Where is he?" Skye's voice is low, as she addresses just the two of them. There is, however, a slight tremor to her hand and she knows her confident demeanour slips for the briefest moment. She prays that it doesn’t occur to them that without Ward here her rash plan falls apart completely. She doesn’t allow herself to think about the consequences. He’s here. He has to be. Skye hardens her expression as she takes in the strange looks from the trio. When they don't respond, she snaps. “Ward - where is he.”

"I believe the correct words are take me to your leader," Ward drawls from behind and Skye tenses slightly in surprise before she feels her shoulders relax. "You know," Ward continues, taking this moment to pull off his gloves. "It's polite to knock." 

Skye pivots slightly to regard him, taking in his slightly disheveled appearance from his time on mission. The last remnants of snow are still in his hair. "If I say Hail Hydra, do I get permission to come in?" 

"Only if you mean it." His voice is light. As though they’re having a friendly chat. Which is absurd.

"Good thing I never cared about anyone's permission." She replies easily.

His mouth twitches at the corner. "Should I be surprised?" 

"No," Skye shrugs, "But you should be impressed." 

"Oh, I am." 

"Good." 

 

*

 

Trevor shares a look with Bob and Larry; they’ve encountered Skye enough times now to know that this sort of behavior is common practice when it comes to her and Ward. 

Its like the rest of the world doesn't exist around these two.

Ward waves a hand at Trevor, gesturing towards Skye.

"Are you kidding me?" Skye wrinkles her nose as Trevor approaches her. When Ward only raises an eyebrow at her, she lifts her chin and spreads her arms wide. Trevor looks from his boss to the agent currently glaring him down, before picking away at her person and ridding her of her weapons. Skye's eyes burn holes into his back as he reaches down and removes two pistols, a knife, an icer and two mysterious black gadgets that he promptly crushes. Skye makes a muffled noise of agitation and she turns to shoot Ward a murderous look.

"That was a gift."  

"Sounds like a personal problem." He deadpans. 

She says nothing more to Ward, turning her attention back to Trevor who is doing one last pat down. "Here, let me help." She hisses, before slipping out the last of her weapons from its hidden position in her sleeve. From up close, Trevor can see the red eyes, evidence of more sleepless nights. "Happy?"  Two of Ward’s agents adjust their aim as she flicks her knife to the ground, where the sharp blade harmlessly pings on the stone floor. If they knew any better - which they don't - there would some stark parallels between Skye and their boss. "Good thing, I don't know, I don't have earthquake powers or something." 

Trevor looks over his shoulder to share another look with Larry and Bob. Skye's eyes follow them and recognition sparks in her eyes. A flash of emotions run over her face, before she settles on a scowl. Trevor watches as Bob returns the look with equal measure; they haven't been allowed back to that bar since. At that moment he's tempted to reveal the defaced SHIELD insignia that hangs above the fireplace in the common room below. 

"You three," She says like an accusation. Larry puffs out his chest in response. 

Ward pulls their attention back with a cough. Skye snaps her head back towards him and a crack zigzags its way through the stone beneath her feet. All eyes lock onto the newly formed fissure, as Skye takes a disjointed step backwards. She looks down in shock and Trevor realizes with a jolt that Skye's control is waning. Whatever stress she's been under has taken a toll. And right now he is ninety five percent sure the entire mountain is going to fall on top of them.

 

*

 

After a beat, Ward looks up.

"Do you mind?" He says dryly. 

This brings her back. She gestures at Trevor, "Do you mind?" 

Ward ignores her, choosing instead to focus on her injuries and the growing pool of blood at her feet. That and the silver circlet enclosed around her wrist. "So tell me, what do you want so badly that you'd break into my base, alone and injured?" He levels a look at her, and Skye, of course, doesn't back down. 

"I'm a superhero, remember?" Skye replies with a simpering smile, twisting her palm for emphasis. "Storming the enemies' stronghold is one our many hobbies. That and criticizing Hydra's new logo.” It suddenly registers on all parties what she's admitted without meaning to: she is alone. Skye opens her mouth, but Ward cuts in before she can talk herself into more trouble.

"So the infamous Quake storms Hydra bases in her free time now, sporting nano technology?" Ward smoothly interjects, before his eyes land on her wrists. "Your new accessory: let me guess, it's AIM custom-designed?" 

She stubbornly stares Ward down, her chin defiantly rising as he calls out her bluff. It's clear to everyone present that Skye has chosen to throw in all her chips on the mere fact that Ward won’t allow her to be harmed or killed. To rely on the fact that the leader of Hydra will show mercy on the enemy. 

Ward's face is unreadable as he takes several slow steps towards her, until they're barely three feet apart. 

"What is it, Skye? What’s wrong?" 

Skye grits her teeth together, before her arm falls to her side in what he assumes is defeat.  

 

She falters, "Project Seventeen…" 

Ward stills as the implication behind her words sinks in. It’s intel he’s been sitting on for months. Skye opens her mouth to say something else, but she doesn't get the chance. The next second she's gripping her arm, her scream echoing off the walls as she goes down. 

 

*

 

 

Skye is carried to med bay as she slips in and out of consciousness, her face contorted in pain as she grips Ward with whitened knuckles. Ward never leaves her side as he barks out orders, and the entire facilities' medical staff assembles just in time for the doors to med bay fly open. The trio follow closely, watching as their boss' features harden with resolve. "Someone get me Pratt on the line now." Ward orders over his shoulder, as he lowers Skye onto the cot as the med staff closes in. They catch the sudden panic in his eyes as he notices the red, before his face closes off. 

 

Skye cries out as a doctor reaches for her arm, and above them a resounding crack splices the air. 

 

Ward turns and grips the arm of said doctor, _"Careful."_ He grits out.

 

He turns to the staff and continues in clipped tones, "She's been subjected to nano technology. Specifically, nanobot regeneration technology. It's utilized as a new interrogation method by AIM, that administers pain on demand. The only way to extract it is with the designed antibodies." Ward pinches the bridge of his nose, "It's extremely unpredictable, dangerous and has had limited success in the past. We've kept our eye on Project Seventeen for months now, but it appears SHIELD" He scowls,  " -- stupidly decided to act first." 

 

"I heard that," Skye's hoarse voice interrupts.

 

Ward glances down at her, as the rest of the room turns to stare. "Good." He answers derisively, "Tell Coulson that patience is a virtue." Skye opens her mouth to retort, but gasps, grinding her teeth together as another flash of purple and red skates up her arm.

 

"You -" Ward snaps to the nearest doctor, "get her an anaesthetic!" 

 

Ward pivots from the doctors, already addressing the trio. His gaze immediately puts them off in ways they can't quite explain. "Larry, go get Skye's file. Bring up any medical records we have on her. I also need everything we have on Project Seventeen, including its biological components. Now." He turns his eyes to Bob, "Tell Pratt to expect company at 1400, sharp. Wheels up in ten." Lastly, he turns to Trevor, who is already eying him. "Trevor, find out where Skye managed to break in and deal with it. I want security on high alert. I don't want anymore surprises." 

 

Larry wonders if Ward knows he's subconsciously angled himself towards Skye.

 

"Sir yes, sir." 

 

"I want one of you ten feet from Skye at all times," Ward stares at each one of them individually as he says it, "If something happens, I want to be informed immediately. Understood?"

 

"Yes, sir." 

 

"Dismissed."

Ward disappears.

 

Although he doesn't vocally state where he's going, they all have an idea, which quite frankly, scares the beejesus out of them. It's a suicide mission. An op like this would take weeks of planning, minimum, with a full tactical unit. Is an enemy's life truly worth the risk? Is a SHIELD agent worth the risk? Isn't their endgame to destroy SHIELD and everything they stand for? 

 

And why of all places, would a SHIELD agent seek refuge at a Hydra base?

 

The entire scenario is baffling, although not entirely surprising given recent events. It doesn't stop Bob from staring down Skye's resting form as the anesthetic kicks in. Neither does it stop the medical staff from whispering. 

 

It isn't long before it's confirmed the AIM facility is gone, reduced to ashes from an explosion. 

 

*

 

 

Ward strides into the room without so much as a word. The three look up startled, taking in his appearance: black tac gear stained with soot, bruises on his face, and a cut running down his left cheek. None of this seems to faze him, however, as his eyes stay locked with an unwavering intensity on Skye. 

 

"You go in alone and get the job done, super spy?"

 

Skye's drowsy smile beams up at him. Ward pauses for the briefest of moments, momentarily taken aback.

 

"Always," 

 

Nobody speaks about the way Ward's fingers linger on her arm longer than necessary as he pushes a syringe of clear liquid into IV.

 

Instead, the three of them edge out of the room, leaving the two alone together.

Through the small window of the swinging door, Larry takes one last look. Ward lowers himself into a chair next to her bedside, where his shoulders slump forward in exhaustion. He ducks his head, his hand reaching for hers across the blankets.

 

His hand curls into a fist and he pulls back. 

 

*

 

"Who else, Skye."

 

Skye presses her lips together. 

 

"Who else."

 

"Drop it."

 

"Edinburgh, San Palo, Berlin - you've been tailed each time. Now you're trying to tell me that this run in with AIM is just a coincidence? How many people are after you --"

 

Ward is abruptly interrupted as Larry bursts into the med bay. Skye and Ward whip their heads towards him in unison, Ward's eyes narrowing at the interruption. After taking in the stand off with Skye still in her ruined and bloody clothes, and Ward not much better in his rumpled tac gear, Larry fumbles behind him for the door handle.

 

"My bad, was just coming to - you know what? Nevermind! It can wait." He waves a hand before slipping out, "You guys, just, uh, continue."

 

*

 

It's been seventeen hours since Ward's return, when he decides that they need to make their next move. 

 

"Come to bust me out?" Skye asks upon his arrival to med bay. 

 

"Not exactly."

 

Ward nods at Larry.  

 

Before Skye can open her mouth, Larry is slapping a pair of handcuffs on her wrists and anchoring it to the wall.  

 

"Are you serious right now? Handcuffs?" She stares at Ward, her mouth popping open. "The last time this happened, it didn't work so well for you." She fires back, jangling the cuffs in frustration.  

 

"More a safety issue." He shrugs.  "I have to think of my team; you understand." Ward continues smoothly. 

 

Skye snorts. "You do know my power is causing earthquakes. Handcuffs don't do much for that."

 

Ward shrugs. "It's the principal of the thing. It wouldn't be good for either of our reputations if word got out I had willingly let you walk around freely." Ward's mouth twitches at the corners at Skye's furious expression. "Plus," Ward makes a sympathetic face. "It's only temporary, I promise."

The base is already almost all cleared by the time the group leave med bay.

 

"We're just going to leave her there?" Bob asks, as he jogs up alongside Ward. His boss looks down at him, than with an exaggerated sigh, he flips through the file in his hands containing Skye's medical recovery and Project Seventeen.  "Clear the base and evacuate to our C-93 location," He says. "SHIELD knows our location." 

 

"How did they find out?"

 

"Not important."  Ward doesn't stop his stride.

 

"Clear the base, that's an order." 

 

*

 

The team doesn't like networking.

They're used to getting in and getting out, with guns a-blazing. Not donning tuxedos and managing a crowd of wealthy patrons. While the team focuses on blending in, maneuvering small talk and downing more than one glass of champagne, Grant Ward appears to be in his element. Conversation comes easily to him, and he confidently approaches the powerful and influential with charm.

The gala has many purposes, but for Ward and his team, the objective is to judge the new global situation, shifting allegiances are only one consequence of powered people joining the various organizations rising from the ashes of the old world. SHIELD is kidding themselves if they think they're the only company welcoming powerful individuals with open arms, hoping to benefit from the power it gives them. It's also not the only organization that promises peace. It does, however, offer a pretty smile upon meeting, was Larry’s muttered commented as the mission was outlined to them.

"Where's the boss?" Larry moves in behind Bob, in the process of eating his tenth shrimp.

"What?" Larry finishes, twisting to look behind him. "Oh, he must have gone back.” He says distractedly, and when Bob continues to look at him to elaborate, Larry puts down his shrimp with a sigh. As his eyes moves around the crowd to pin point where their leader has gone to, his jaw drops open, causing Bob turn around himself, half-afraid of what he’s about to see. 

Skye.

Larry stifles a groan. 

The evening just got ten times more complicated. 

It seems that fate has a twisted sense of humour when it comes to their boss, and by association, them too. Not to mention that these coincidences seem to be happening more and more frequently, not only throwing off their missions, but also intruding on their time off too. Just last week Skye showed up when they were hotwiring a Corvette. None of them are going to forget the mocking tones with which she asked if they needed a hand. Honestly, it seems like fate is concerned with nothing more than ruining all their lives.

In the end, Larry and Bob wind up tailing Skye out onto the garden's patio. She's wearing a sparkling blue gown, one tan leg exposed through the lengthy slit running up her thigh. Gone are the bruises and dark circles, now replaced with a determination neither were expecting. They can't help but agree that she looks spectacular. 

"Ward is going to flip," Bob whistles.

The two circle back, emerging on the opposite side of the patio, hands ready to reach for the guns in their jacket pockets at the first sign of trouble. If she's here they have reason to believe SHIELD is too, and they're not taking any chances. It's only then, while they're slipping through the shadows, that they catch a glimpse of the scene unfolding in front of them, and they come to an abrupt halt. 

Ward leans back against the brick facade, one foot braced on the wall, directly opposite the French doors leading out into the garden. The warm glow from the ballroom casts long shadows, elongating their silhouettes as Skye comes to a stop beside him. She doesn't even look at him.

"Did you get my message?" Her voice is clear in the still air.

"Yes," Ward regards her with a tilt of his head and sighs. "And, unsurprisingly, you seem to have ignored mine."

She dismisses his words with a wave of her hand, her jewelry winking in the light of the moon. She walks towards the balcony overlooking the grounds, her hands settling on the stone curve of the railing before drawing back to look at him. She flashes him a cool smile. 

“Nice party. Little stuffy for my taste, though, and you know, the guest list - " She trails off, making a face.

Ward frowns, pushing himself from the wall. “You know -"

She cuts him off, turning her face away from him. “I do know, which is why I’m here.” Her eyes snap back to his.  “They're my responsibility, Ward, and I’m not going to let just about any one with a rich pocket get to them, especially that lot.” 

“Inhumans, they're talking about Inhumans”, Larry mouths. 

Ward shakes his head, obviously dissatisfied with her approach, but before he can voice his thoughts, Skye is already speaking.  

"Let me remind you, just because you say to stay away, doesn’t mean I’m going to do it.”  Skye’s posture changes, and Ward watches as the girl in front of him transforms unknowingly into the willful girl he found in a van so long ago.  She stubbornly takes a step forward, pointing a finger at his chest. "I think you forget that you’re not my S.O. anymore.” 

The familiar response is already out of his mouth before he realizes it, “Dammit, Skye," Ward starts, "This is more serious than proving some point -“

“Not everything is about you, Ward."

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. Stop digging." Skye's eyes light up at the challenge in his words. 

"What, like with my parents?" She says incredulously, "Looks like I didn't have a choice in that either.” 

"This is different." He continues, ignoring her sarcasm.

"Yes, it is." Skye says, stepping away. "Doesn't mean that I'll listen to you.” 

“So you’re going to risk all the lives you’re trying to save.” He replies dryly. 

“Oh no,” Skye makes a face of disbelief, “You do not get to be condescending when you’re the big, fat, freakin’ head of Hydra. Stupid tentacles and all.” She chooses to ignore the way his mouth twitches at the corners when she mimics said tentacles. 

Both Ward and Skye stare at each other for a moment - and dammit it really is too dark for either henchman to see clearly.

Finally, Ward breaks the silence. “Fine. Do what you want."

“I will.” 

"Just don’t say I didn't warn you."

“I won’t.” 

She walks back into the party, her shoulder brushing past him. 

“Oh and tell your goons that it's rude to eavesdrop."

Ward’s eyes meet Bob and Larry’s. They slink back into the crowd. 

 

*

 

They're supposed to be high tailing it out of here, not doubling back.

"Ward!" Trevor yells as Ward freezes, his face blanching as he checks one of the monitors. The place is crawling with the enemy - one of many - and they've gotten what they've come for. No way are they stopping for more tech or whatever intelligence he may have stumbled on. The compound is already eerie enough, and Bob is sure they've passed two operating rooms already. What they practice here he doesn't exactly want to know.

"What's she doing here - I told her. " Ward's voice is barely heard above the wailing sirens. 

Larry emerges a second later, barreling into the control room, guns already out. 

“We going or what?” He catches Ward’s expression, sees the grainy image on the screen and lets out a long groan. “You’ve got to be shitting me.” 

 

*

 

Suddenly the beeping is no longer there.

Through the haze Skye can hear canons - canons? - gunfire, her brain supplies after a moment. In the corner of her vision something black and tall, really tall, moves into view. She squirms, automatically pulling away from the shadow. But it moves closer - warm, firm hands wrap around her and –

"Can you run?" The vague shape snaps into focus. Ward.

Skye slumps against him in the struggle to regain her balance. Her hands wrap around Ward's neck awkwardly as he pulls her up by the waist, her knees buckling under her. 

"If this is the time you're going to say I told you so, save it." She manages to get out, wincing. 

From behind them, Larry makes a noise in his throat. 

Before Ward can reply, however, a squad of men round the corner with large, nasty looking guns. Skye's eyes widen drowsily, and her hands slip from around his neck in surprise.

"I'll save it for later," He agrees, and hoists her up into his arms. For the first time in forever she allows someone else to take charge as the darkness swallows her whole.

 

 *

 

They can hear the argument from the cockpit of the quinjet.

Larry and Bob share a look as the aircraft starts to shake, the conversation filtering in word-for-word from the back of the quinjet. Behind them Skye and Ward move restlessly back and forth, resembling nothing so much as caged animals, out for blood. It doesn’t take a genius to establish that Skye's obviously unhappy that she was rescued by the "last person on earth I would ever, ever, want help from - " despite her coma-induced state at the time. 

She’s still wearing her sparkling dress from the party, now a ruination of its original glamour. 

"You know, you could just say thank you." Ward's voice is even, and it's clear he's trying not to lose his temper. The resounding argument that follows leaves the entire aircraft in a heavy turbulence.

_ "Thank you?"  _

“If you had listened to me, you wouldn’t haven’t been -"

"Oh," Skye laughs, " - because you promised never to lie to me again. Right." 

"And I haven't.”

The aircraft veers violently to the left as Larry tries to get the jet under control. He looks out the window only to see the left wing trembling with more force than it can withstand for long. He looks over at Bob who gives him a ‘I’m not getting involved’ expression, which is incredibly unhelpful. 

Skye's left hand reaches up to grab hold of the overhead handle, bringing her closer to Ward. "Stop with that mantra, you know perfectly well that you excel at truth bending. It's all in the job description." She waves off his protest. "So don't flatter me with this ‘and I haven't’ bullshit, Ward." Ward's jaw clenches, and she knows she's hit home. 

“So I was supposed to leave you for dead?"

“That’s typically what you do when you see your enemy, yes.”

Larry twists to see that, once again, the two of them are nearly flush against one another. 

"What do you want me to say, Skye?” Ward finally says, frustration and wariness bleeding into his tone. “That I should have left you there? And prove what? What are you trying to get me to say?” 

Skye purses her lips together, uncharacteristically quiet in the light of his question. 

In that moment everything clicks together for him, and he ducks his head to look at her. “Are you asking me if I’m still in love with you?” Ward says, incredulous. 

The quinjet stills except for the familiar sounds of the engine, and Larry is able to right the plane. 

Ward lets out a bark of laughter, “This is what you think this is about? That I’m still in love with you?” Skye flushes red at his tone. “Just because I don’t want to see your corpse at the bottom of some AIM facility doesn’t mean I’m delusional.” He retorts. “Whatever I thought we did have, we’ve both made abundantly clear is in the past. Or do we need to shoot each other to prove it once and for all?”

“I have nothing to prove.” Skye bites out. 

A heavy silence falls over them, as she fixes him with a glare. Something shifts in Ward’s eyes, but before she can catch the change in expression, he abruptly twists away from her.

"You know," Skye lets out a hollow laugh, addresses his back, "I really loved you."

A beat. 

"I did too."

She rocks back on her heels, the small distance between them seeming suddenly vast.

The rest of the flight is quiet.

*

 

"We have a right to know." Bob folds his arms over his chest, attempting to appear unintimidated as his boss looks up at him.

“You have a right to know,” Ward repeats dryly, not even bothering to get up from his desk.

Larry steps up from behind Bob, showing his support, and coughs. Ward leans back in his seat, taking the cue. He raises an eyebrow at them, “Right to know what exactly.” 

"About you and Skye."

To Ward’s credit, he barely reacts, just stares at them for a few seconds more, gauging the way Bob is fidgeting under his scrutiny. “There’s nothing to know.” He says flatly before returning to his paperwork, effectively closing off the subject. The trio bristles at the lie. 

 

*

 

They don't see her.  

 

It's just like it was at the beginning; just them, a plan and the follow through. 

But their leader is  _off._

Although missions are going smoothly - they're recruiting more and acquiring potential assets - Grant Ward is distant. The base has heaved a sigh of relief as SHIELD goes quiet, and no one hears much about Inhumans or sees the despised eagle logo for weeks. In fact, it seems their only problems have been flying robots and shrinking men; threats that they prefer to leave to others to deal with. However, despite their success, Ward has this haunted look in his eyes, one that only fades when he nurses a drink. 

 

“It's always about Skye”, Bob whispers to Larry, “I'm telling you.”

 

It's been weeks when an alert pulses through their computer systems. For a minute, Ward grins. 

 

The doors of their base fly open, and there is she again, as if months of silence means nothing, and never will. 

 

* 

 there was never truly an end, only the inevitable. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> the beginning quote is taken from this video. additionally, if you’re interested in the crack!au, feel free to search ‘henchdogs’ on twitter; we’re all over it. basically smoke machines and badass slo mo. i’ve also made quite a few things related to this au on my tumblr, here, here, and here.


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